


No sunshine when you're gone

by rydia



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Felileth Week, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Grief, Modern AU, Post Game, Reincarnation AU, Suicidal Ideation, this is tagged major character death but don't worry he gets better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:21:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25227475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rydia/pseuds/rydia
Summary: Byleth, blessed with the power of the goddess, stays young while her husband and everyone else around her grows old. In her grief after Felix's death, she sleeps, and as she sleeps the goddess inside her grows stronger.Strong enough to give Byleth another chance at happiness – that is, if all goes according to plan.(It does not all go according to plan.)For Felileth week day 2: reincarnation/loss
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 51
Kudos: 174





	1. Chapter 1

For Byleth, watching her husband grow old is a double edged sword.

Because even as Felix’s movements grow duller, his aches become more frequent, and his eyesight less sharp, each passing year is a triumph. Growing old in Faerghus is a novelty. Felix will be the first Fraldarius in a long time to die peacefully in his bed, surrounded by those who love him.

If only Byleth could grow old with him.

Instead, she remains unchanged, looking exactly as she did the day she woke up by a river some forty years ago. The power of the goddess that kept her alive then will keep her living for longer than any person should. When it became clear she wasn’t growing older, Seteth and Flayn had explained some things to her.

It’s what made her give up her role as Archbishop, years ago. She’d wanted to have all the time with Felix that she could get.

Byleth does not have regrets. Even if she’d known she wouldn’t age back when she and Felix had married, Byleth knows that both of them would have made the same decision again. After the war it had become unfathomable to not be together. Perhaps that was selfish, of both of them. And soon, Byleth will have to learn how to deal with the unfathomable.

She doesn’t know how she’s going to survive it.

Felix stirs in his bed, and takes in a painful breath, making Byleth’s throat sieze up with fear. But then his breathing evens out and his eyes flicker open, immediately focusing on her. He’s been cagey about how bad his eyesight has gotten, but he’s always managed to find her in a room immediately.

His voice is gruff. “You’re staring again.”

She smiles widely at that, and reaches out to curl her hand around his. Old age has taken his ability to hold a sword, but he can still grasp her hand tight.

“How are you feeling?”

Felix’s expression sours as he hauls himself upright. Byleth resists the urge to help, especially when she hears his strained breathing. But she how much he hates feeling like an invalid. “Like shit,” he mutters, breath rasping again. His hand clutches hers and he stares down at it for a long time.

“Byleth.” The tremor in his jaw is the only indication he gives of his struggle to find words. “When I’m gone, Fraldarius is yours.”

It’s not the first time he’s said this to her, and he’s made plans and drawn up papers in preparation, as the lack of an heir might make her position precarious. But Byleth already knows she can’t stay, just as Felix _has_ to know the same. She cannot remain here, unchanging and alone while everyone else lives and dies around her. It’s something she’s always thought ever since Seteth had made it clear to her that she would outlive Felix and the others, but it’s taken on new meaning now that Felix is dying.

Because he is. And they both know it.

She can’t stay in this castle without him, with reminders of the happy life they’d fought and forged for themselves all around her.

As she watches the man she loves struggle to take a breath, Byleth realises she finally understands why Rhea did what she did, and she can’t help but wonder if she’ll grow just as warped from grief. In that moment she can see how it can happen, how loss could twist a person into something unrecognisable.

It’s not right for her to have this elongated existence. As far as Byleth is concerned, she’s lived the life she was supposed to have.

But Felix has already extracted a promise from her not to do something drastic, and that promise she’ll respect. She doesn’t break her promises to her husband.

So when Felix tells her that Fraldarius is hers, Byleth doesn’t answer, and instead clambers onto the bed beside him, curling up against him, and smoothing some of his hair out of his face. He still has a fine head of hair, but it’s long since gone white. He’d grumbled when the first white hairs had appeared, vainer than anyone but Byleth knew.

Byleth plays with the ends of his hair, still long, just as she has countless times before. She smiles at him even while her heart breaks, and presses a kiss to the side of his mouth.

“Are you hungry?”

“No. Don’t fuss, Byleth.”

Another kiss. “I like to take care of my husband.”

He sighs. “Fine. Can you pour me some water?”

Byleth hops off the bed to pour water from the jug on the beside table into a glass, and helps him drink it. Neither of them mention his trembling hand. When he’s done, she sets it back down and rejoins him on the bed.

“I just woke up, but I’m still tired,” he mutters.

“Do you want to sleep more?”

Felix considers it. “If you stay with me.” He glances out the window of their bedroom. “It’s still early. We can go for a walk later.”

Byleth agrees to that, and helps him lie back down before slipping under the blankets beside him, wrapping a leg around his waist and pressing her face into his neck. One of his hands slides down her back, and the other takes her hand in his, resting it on his chest.

Briefly he lifts her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“Sleep well, Byleth.” He pauses. “I love you.”

She smiles at that. It’s not often he says the words, even though Byleth has never doubted his feelings. “I love you, too,” she whispers, and stays awake until she hears his breathing even out.

She lets it lull her to sleep.

.

He’s cold when she wakes, but his face is peaceful and smooth. Later, she’d be relieved he passed with no pain, but in that moment Byleth is hit with a grief so heavy she doesn’t know how she’s ever going to bear it.

Felix’s fingers are still tangled in hers.

She doesn’t even register the wretched sobs she’s emitting until a maid runs into the room, alarmed, only to find the Duchess weeping over her dead husband.

She won’t remember who pried her fingers away from Felix’s. In fact, she won’t remember anything until Sylvain appears, grey haired and leaning heavily on his crutch, here to help her bury her husband – and the last of his childhood friends.

.

No one is meant to live this long. No one is meant to hold onto power for centuries the way Rhea had.

Byleth knows she must fade away, like Seteth and Flayn already have. Her time in Fódlan is done, just as certainly as Felix’s is. Or Dimitri’s. Or Claude’s, over in Almyra. Their legacy lives on, in the world they fought to build; a better, more equal place. Dimitri didn’t get to achieve all his goals before he died, younger than any of them, but his children continue his work.

Byleth and Felix may have no such blessing, but Fraldarius will be in good hands, just as she’d left the Church in good hands.

What she need to do is to disappear. Fade into history.

To do this, she follows the clues left to her by Seteth. He and Flayn had quietly disappeared years ago, but Seteth had foreseen her future and told her she would never be alone.

Byleth finds them in Zanado.

When Flayn throws her arms around her, Byleth meets Seteth’s eyes over her head. She can see the long years weighing on him, this man who has gone through exactly what she has. 

She tries to blink the tears out of her eyes.

“I am so sorry, Byleth,” Flayn is saying, and Byleth lets out a shuddering breath. “I’m sure you must miss Felix dearly.”

When she pulls away, Byleth opens and closes her mouth, unable to speak. She’s aware of the tears running down her eyes, and can see Flayn is close to crying herself.

Seteth steps forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I know we can never replace what you’ve lost,” he says, more gentle than she’s ever heard him, “but you need never be on your own. Please remember this.”

The words are well meant. They are completely genuine, and it’s not that Byleth is ungrateful for that. But now, more than ever, she can see an endless, empty future stretching out in front of her, with Seteth and Flayn – as much as she loves them both – being the only two people who she’ll ever be close to again.

.

Byleth decides to sleep, as she had once for five years before, as Flayn had for a century before coming to Garreg Mach. She hopes that whenever she might wake up, her grief will have ebbed and she’ll be able to see some way forward.

Seteth helps her, understanding why, but grave nonetheless.

“I would have done the same,” he murmurs, “if not for Cethleann.”

Deep under Zanado, she sleeps.

.

.

.

.

.

“I remember so much, now.”

Byleth blinks. There is a throne in front of her. One she’s not seen for decades. Perched upon it is a young woman with long green hair.

“…Sothis?”

The woman stretches in her throne. “Who else?” she responds archly.

Staring at her, Byleth tries to work through her muddled mind. “You look different.”

“I see you’re just as observant as ever,” Sothis responds dryly. She stands and gracefully makes her way down the steps, stopping just in front of Byleth.

“You look so sad,” she observes, eyes searching Byleth's face.

Byleth can’t stop staring at her. There’s hints of the child Sothis had once been, but now she is older, eyes sparkling with knowledge that the Sothis she’d known had lost. Even her clothes are different – she’s wearing a long white dress with gold panelling down the centre. Her hair is still long, but much less chaotic than it had been before, brushed back behind her pointed ears. It all adds to the regality Sothis now carries.

“I did not want this for you,” Sothis continues, her voice turning soft and caring, in a way Byleth isn't sure she's ever heard before. “To lose those you love and to be left alone.” She sighs.

Byleth still can’t get over how different she is. “Why do you look like this?”

“Oh!” Sothis exclaims, in a childish manner that takes Byleth back decades and makes her ache all the more for what she's lost. “You’re still so rude. But I shall give you your answers.” She takes a step closer, and reaches out to place her hand flat over Byleth’s unbeating heart. “I have always been a part of you, even when we have been unable to speak. And I have grown stronger, able to rest within you as you slept. I still do not recall everything but…” She pauses, eyes going distant. “So much more makes sense.”

Byleth remains still, watching her. Is this just a dream in her long sleep?

“You’ve slept for a long time,” Sothis murmurs, eyes falling to her hand still resting over Byleth’s heart. “And still you grieve. So much. I grieve with you.”

A pulse of pain shoots through Byleth. “It’s–“

“Hush, now, I’m speaking,” Sothis interrupts mildly. “So many of the little ones died, didn’t they? During the war. So many you couldn’t save. And even though you built a happy life with that grumpy swordsman… you never forgot. You all bore the scars of war.”

“I was happy,” Byleth whispers.

The smile Sothis gives her is ancient and sad.

“And I would like for you to be happy again. So I will…” Her brows furrow, face pinching in concentration. “I will give you one last gift. Or I shall try, at least.” She pauses. “It is still so difficult to remember at times… to know how best to proceed... but...”

Byleth feels a pulsing heat from Sothis’s hand, spreading into her. A pain rips through her heart and she gasps, but does not fall.

Sothis winces. “I am sorry, but the pain is momentary. It will help you wake up, too. You’ve been sleeping so long. Really, it’s dreadfully lazy of you to do that.”

“Wh–“ Another spike of pain shoots through Byleth, cutting off her words. She can’t focus, and Sothis blurs in front of her.

But she can hear Sothis humming calmly, a song that Byleth hasn’t heard in decades. It’s what Rhea had sang to her, all that time ago, when she’d merged with Sothis originally. It does nothing to calm Byleth, wracked with pain.

“ _Sothis_.”

Everything goes black.

.

And she wakes up, still under Zanado, staring up at the stone wall that looks unchanged. She might only have fallen asleep a day ago.

.

It has not been a day.

It’s been centuries.

.

This new world is strange, but Byleth has always been adaptable, even if it’s bewildering at first to see how this time mixes magic and technology freely. It reminds her a little of Shambhala, that underground city they’d infiltrated a couple of years after reuniting Fódlan, ending that secret, second war. But she quickly gets used to the bright lights and machines in this modern world, used for convenience more than anything else.

She’s helped by Flayn, who had kept an eye on her resting place, deep in Zanado. She’d arrived not long after Byleth had woken up.

“Truly, the goddess must have guided me here at the right time,” she’d said, smiling widely as she cooked fish for them to eat.

Byleth pondered that silently, thinking it might actually be true.

As she ate the fish – her first meal in centuries – Byleth realised that Flayn still hadn’t learned how to cook.

.

The Sword of the Creator, which Byleth had kept by her side as she slept, no longer glowed or responded to her touch.

She left it there, buried in Zanado, in the past.

.

It takes longer for Byleth to get used to the beating of her heart. She presses her hand to her chest, exactly where Sothis had touched her, and feels it pulse under her hand.

“Do I look the same?” She poses the question at Flayn, who looks conflicted before shaking her head. Reaching into the bag she carries with her, Flayn pulls out a small round pocket mirror, handing it to Byleth wordlessly.

In the mirror, a woman with blue eyes and darker blue hair stares back at Byleth.

.

Flayn takes her to Garreg Mach, quiet as she lets Byleth absorb the differences in the world. They take a train, and Byleth can’t take her eyes off the landscape speeding by, and how fast they’re moving. It’s enough of a marvel to distract her momentarily from the ever persistent grief.

“Do people still travel by wyvern and pegasus?” she asks as they pass a field of horses.

“Of course! There are less of them around now, and they are quite coveted.” Flayn’s mouth turns downward as she continues. “Father believes their decline is due how widespread people have become, and how unwilling they are to leave the natural environment alone. But I believe Almyra still has many wyverns.”

 _Almyra_. Byleth wonders what King Khalid’s legacy is; their old friend Claude who’d worked together with Dimitri to open the border between Fódlan and Almyra, encouraging trade and cultural exchange.

She remembers the one and only visit they’d made to Almyra. There had unfortunately never been a chance for more. The country was hot, and Felix had suffered, so whenever they weren’t required at a diplomatic function Byleth had taken him to the lavish indoor pool in Claude’s palace, that he’d been happy for them to use whenever they wished.

Byleth had always thought that Faerghus could learn some lessons from Almyra.

One day, they’d taken a trip to an oasis not far outside the Almyran capital. Claude had assured them of privacy and safety, and under the hot sun, she and Felix had kissed and made love in the cool water.

She smiles at the memory, even as it hurts.

.

Garreg Mach is still a place of learning, Byleth finds out. Seteth has a high ranking position, while Flayn is a student, studying art history.

“You cannot imagine,” she says to Byleth, beaming, “how pleasant it is not to have to hide my relationship with my father. To know that while we must of course take precautions, we are in no danger.”

“I didn’t realise you had much interest in art?” Byleth asks.

“Oh, I suppose I did not always. But after seeing so many people I care for depicted in art over the centuries, I decided it would be imperative for me to understand it.”

Byleth hides a smile. It’s as good a reason as any.

“And what will you do, Byleth?” Flayn asks the question a little uncertainly.

Byleth has no answer for her. Sothis had said she was giving her a final gift, but Byleth assumed that just meant she would grow old and die eventually. What she’d do in the meantime… she has no idea. She’s not sure she has any place in this world.

.

Byleth decides to stay with Flayn, at least for the moment, in her tiny apartment in the now large town at the base of the mountain that Garreg Mach sits on. Seteth lives nearby, and they often travel to the university together, taking a train that snakes up the hill. They set her up with a mobile phone and explain how it works, pressing the large buttons to input their own phone numbers so she can contact them whenever she needs to. Byleth takes it all in and puts the object in the shoulder bag Flayn had given her and then forgets about it.

She insists that Seteth and Flayn don’t change their schedule on her account. That she’d like to become accustomed to things in her own time.

At first, she just explores the town, learning the new layout of it and feeling a pang of pain both at what’s changed and what hasn’t. It’s strange to step through here and be unknown.

Her favourite place is the cafe that used to be a teashop in her time. It still has the same name, and it still sells tea, but now the building is bigger, with just hints at its original architecture.

She sits there everyday, fumbling at first with the unfamiliar money Seteth had given her. And everyday she takes a seat in the outdoor area with her cup of Almyran Pine Tree, which still somehow tastes the same as it did hundreds of years ago, and she half closes her eyes against the warm autumn sun and pretends that her husband is still with her.

.

Seteth and Flayn are careful with her, treating her delicately, obviously trying to keep her from learning too much at once, telling her not to push herself. There’s little to hold Byleth’s interest in Flayn’s tiny apartment, although she does like watching television with Flayn in the evenings.

“My father doesn’t approve of these types of shows,” Flayn says with a delighted smile. “He thinks everyone is too promiscuous in them.”

Byleth stares, perplexed at first and then with growing interest, at the box with the moving pictures. But it still takes less than a week for her to grow tired of having nothing to do, and to begin to suspect there’s something Flayn and Seteth aren’t telling her.

What’s more, she’s restless and lethargic all at the same time, and is having trouble sleeping. Seteth has said Garreg Mach still retains its military education, even though the continent has been at peace for so long. He’d mentioned modern weapons being used alongside the old, and that there’s still a very traditional Faerghus attitude towards learning weapons like swords and staves.

That’s good enough for Byleth, because that means there should be training grounds and weapons she can use, and she really needs to hit something.

.

So, on a cloudy Monday morning, not long after Flayn has left to get the train to her classes, Byleth locks up the little apartment and begins a walk she hasn’t taken in hundreds of years, but which is still so familiar to her.

The scenery has changed, of course. There are far more buildings, even on the more hilly parts of the path to Garreg Mach.

The monastery itself is like the town; a strange mix of old and new. The shiny new modern buildings stick out, unpleasant to Byleth’s eyes. But alongside them is the cathedral, still very similar to how it had been in her time.

She can’t help but make her way to it, curious. But she lingers at the back once she gets there, because this is _too_ familiar. They’d made repairs after the war, repairs designed to last the test of time.

They had.

The cathedral is mostly empty at this time, with only a few seated in the pews, saying silent prayers. She realises she has no idea what the Church looks like in this modern world.

How many times had she stood in the front of this cathedral and spoken to a large crowd of the faithful?

Countless. She’d never enjoyed it.

Leaving the cathedral, she continues her journey. The dormitories are completely gone, with a tall building that seems to be made of mostly glass replacing it. A constant stream of people are coming and going from it.

But the training grounds are still there, albeit with a modern building beside it, completely taking over where the sauna used to be.

The doors to the training grounds are different. Definitely modern.

Byleth tries to open them, but they appear to be locked. She frowns at that. It’s late morning. Surely the people here train at this time? It should be open.

She tries the door again, and a sharp sigh sounds behind her.

“Unbelievable. Another freshman forgetting their keycard.”

Byleth freezes.

Her heart skips a beat, a very new and startling sensation.

She knows that voice as well as her own.

Keeping her hand on the handle of the door – because she knows it’s shaking – Byleth turns around, looking straight into a pair of sharp, amber eyes.

“ _Felix_.” Her voice breaks on his name because it is, it’s him, as he’d been when he’d been younger; face unlined, his hair dark and pulled up messily. His back straight and strong. He’s wearing modern clothing, but even the dark roll-neck sweater he’s wearing looks like something she’s seen him in countless times before.

Wild hope flares up in her.

_Sothis, is this what you meant?_

She takes a step towards him, but Felix steps back, eyes widening in alarm. “How do you know my name?” he asks, a bite in his voice.

Someone beside him laughs, and Byleth somehow manages to tear her gaze away from her husband as she tries to process what he’s just said to see… to see _Sylvain_.

“Felix, you kept this one hidden.” Sylvain runs a hand through his hair and smiles at her in a manner so reminiscent of how he’d been as her student that Byleth thinks she’s somehow managed to keep Sothis’s power after all, and unknowingly gone back hundreds of years.

“I don’t know her,” Felix snaps, crossing his arms.

The words send a chill down Byleth’s spine. She thinks her heart stops completely.

_He can’t not know her._

“It must be your reputation then,” a deep voice rumbles out, and once again Byleth is hit with too many emotions she can’t process as she sees Dimitri, tall and broad, beside Sylvain. His eyes – his two eyes – are warm, and he has a small smile on his lips as he regards Byleth. “I’m assuming, anyway. Everyone knows Felix is the most accomplished swordsperson at Garreg Mach.”

“Hmph,” is all Felix says in reply, but as Byleth looks to him again – she’s looking at _Felix_ , how is she _looking at Felix_ – she can see that he’s pleased at the praise.

“Are you alright?” Another voice asks, and it’s Ingrid, of course, who is looking at Byleth in concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Ghosts don’t exist, Ingrid,” Felix snaps.

Byleth has to close her eyes. She can feel the tears building up and she can’t cry here.

Because not one of them know her, and she thinks that Felix is wrong, that ghosts do exist. It’s just that in this case, she’s not sure if she’s the ghost or if Felix is.

The knowledge crawls down her body like ice.

They don’t know her. Not one of them know who she is. She’s a stranger to them.

Her heart is beating too fast.

This cannot be what Sothis meant. She cannot have meant for her to be here, and to see Felix, and for him not to know her.

It’s cruel. It’s more cruel than she can bear.

“Seriously, you look really unwell.” Byleth snaps open her eyes to see Ingrid suddenly much closer, clearly concerned. “Can we help you?”

Felix shifts, eyes darting at Byleth and then away again. “Why are you even trying to train when you’re sick? Go to the infirmary.”

Byleth wants to plead. Or to scream. For the first time in her existence, she wants to curse the goddess.

“No,” she manages to say, unable to stop looking at him. “No. Take me to Seteth.”

“The Dean?” Sylvain asks, alarmed.

“He’s my uncle,” Byleth whispers, remembering the story she, Seteth and Flayn had agreed on. She presses her hand into her chest, over her heart, feeling it pound. It hurts. It _hurts_.

It’s difficult to breathe.

“I’m taking you to the infirmary,” Ingrid says, alarmed. She turns to the others. “Can you tell Dean Seteth his niece is ill?”

Without waiting for an answer, she wraps an arm around Byleth, and begins leading her away.

And Byleth, not knowing what else to do, can only go with her. Go with Ingrid, who’d become one of her closest friends and who now doesn’t even know who she is.

Her eyes meet Felix’s as she turns away, but his gaze drops to the ground, a flush crossing his face.

.

“That was weird,” Sylvain states, looking on as Ingrid helps the mysterious woman walk away.

“She seemed very distressed,” Dimitri says with a frown. “And she certainly did look at us oddly.”

“Like she knew us,” Felix says absently, also staring at the odd, blue haired woman. He fiddles with the keycard for the training grounds in his hand, but for once, he’s forgotten about his training.

Something he doesn’t understand prickles at him. He should have went with Ingrid. Made sure the woman is okay.

Sylvain shrugs. “Well, I’ll go tell–“

“No.” Felix interrupts. “I’ll find the Dean.”

“Don’t worry Felix,” Dimitri states gallantly. “We know you were eager to train today, so–“

“ _No_ ,” he snaps again. “I said I’ll go.”

.

Seteth knows as soon as Felix Fraldarius knocks on his open office door with an agitated expression that this is going to be bad. It’s difficult to be around these people he’d once been so close to, unable to understand how they’re suddenly – all of them – here again. So he tries to have as little to do with them as possible, while also keeping a close eye on them all, from a distance.

But so far, he’s had no cause for concern. These are young adults concerned with the things young adults should be – figuring themselves out, enjoying their lives, trying new things. There is no war for them. 

Seeing Edelgard had been an unpleasant shock. But she’d been perfectly polite and studious.

Her hair is brown, now. And she smiles more.

He doesn’t know why they’re here. He’s never encountered anything like this in his long life, and there is no one he can turn to to ask for advice.

He’d been unsurprised when Byleth woke up, suspecting it’s something that would happen considering the apparent reincarnation of all the people she’d known. It’s why Flayn had been so quick to find her after she’d woken.

Seteth still has no idea how to tell her about this. He knows he must, that she deserves to know, but how can he do that to her, when they will have no idea who she is? It would devestate her. 

Flayn hadn't liked withholding the information, feeling it was too akin to how overprotective Seteth has been of her in the past, but she'd acquiesed, for now, to give Byleth some time to adjust. But Seteth knows they would have to tell her soon.

And now... he fears he's lost that opportunity, and sick guilt swirls in him as he watches Felix step into his office.

This Felix – this new, young Felix – has always been the one Seteth feels the most uncomfortable around. Seteth and Byleth worked closely together while she’d been Archbishop, and so Seteth had become close friends with Felix too, as had Flayn. It had been remarkable to see the man he grew into, and endearing to see how much he and Byleth truly loved each other. 

Felix is looking at him with suspicious eyes, and Seteth can’t blame him. He knows he probably comes off a little odd to most of them – _especially_ Felix. But it is impossible for him to act unaffected, to pretend this person hadn't been a close friend of his for decades. He had mourned Felix, and held Flayn as she cried for him, and seen the light leave Byleth's eyes after he died. 

It hurts to have Felix look at him like this. He can't imagine what it would do to Byleth.

But when he speaks, Seteth's voice is firm and calm. “Can I help you, Felix?”

“Your niece is in the infirmary.”

Seteth stands, immediately alarmed. His chair threatens to topple over. This is worse than he imagined. “You met her?”

“Uh. Yes? Outside the training grounds. Ingrid took her to the infirmary, she seemed sick.” Felix is staring at him like he has two heads, and Seteth tries to calm himself down.

This is what he’d wanted to avoid.

He hadn’t wanted to tell Byleth too soon, but he should have known she’d come here sooner rather than later. 

“Thank you,” he says with difficulty. “For telling me. I will go to her.”

Felix’s eyebrows raise. “I’m sure it’s nothing serious,” he says, uncertainly, obviously mistaking Seteth’s reaction for concern over his niece’s health.

All Seteth can do is nod, suddenly needing to be away from Felix. If he finds it this difficult to be around him, he can’t imagine how Byleth feels.

.

Byleth asks Ingrid to leave as soon as they reach the infirmary – in a different location than it had been before. The thankfully unfamiliar nurse also shoos Ingrid out, and checks over Byleth, eventually concluding that she’s had a panic attack.

When she asks Byleth if she wants to talk, Byleth turns away from her. There’s only one person she needs to speak to right now.

When he arrives, and ushers the nurse out, Byleth stares for a long moment at him.

Seteth fidgets under her gaze. “I am sorry,” he finally says. “I did intend to tell you once you were more acclimatised.”

Byleth scoffs, letting her anger roll over her. It’s easier to be angry, to focus on that instead of anything else she’s feeling.

“Why doesn’t he remember me?”

Seteth takes a seat beside her bed. “None of them do. I don’t know why. I don’t even know how or why this has happened.”

Byleth closes her eyes, the memory of Sothis rising up. Was it even a memory? Or a dream?

“Felix–“ She starts and then has to stop, because she can’t catch her breath again.

Seteth leans forward, placing a hand on her back. “Breath with me, Byleth.”

She shakes her head, ignoring him. “I have to tell him,” she manages to gasp out.

“ _No_.” While Seteth’s tone is still gentle, there’s force in it. “Byleth, you cannot.”

She heaves in a deep breath and raises her head, finding Seteth blurry through her tears. “I have to–“

“They don’t remember,” he hisses. “Flayn tried, at first and against my advice, to see if mentioning certain things would jog their memories. Nothing. _They do not remember._ ”

“But–“

“That Felix is not your husband.” Seteth says it with such finality that it makes Byleth shake and press her hand to mouth because this is too cruel. Once again, she struggles to breathe.

“I am sorry, Byleth. I am so truly sorry. This is why I did not tell you. Now, please, breathe with me, you’ll feel better.”

She tries it, matching his breath to hers, and after a time gets herself back under control. But she can feel it in her chest, a ball of pressure that makes it hard to breathe, ready to rear up again.

“Even if they didn’t remember Flayn, maybe I could–“

“Byleth,” Seteth interrupts again, gently. “I know I must sound cruel when I say this, but I wish I had something better to tell you. They do not remember. But consider if they do, what you are _making_ them remember. Those who died in the war, those who killed friends. Dimitri and Dedue are together here, and they managed to find each other without having to go through the agonies they did previously. For that,” Seteth concludes, “I am grateful everyone here has only known peace.”

Byleth squeezes her eyes shut, immediately understanding his point even if she’d rather not. If Felix remembered, he’d remember the bad with the good. He’d remember the rebellion in which Dimitri had massacred those soliders. Glenn’s death. His father’s death. Countless awful, brutal battles. This Felix has never seen war. She can be grateful about that even while despair seizes her.

“Felix–“ She can’t get any more words out, but Seteth seems to know what she’s asking.

“I don’t know much about him. In truth, I thought it better to not know, and to keep my distance. I know that his father is alive, but that is all.”

“And he’s…” Byleth considers how Felix had looked – possibly at an age never seen him at before. “Twenty-one?”

Seteth nods. “Thereabouts, I would imagine.”

They fall silent and Seteth drops his hand from her back now that he sees she’s breathing easier.

“I can’t go back to sleep,” Byleth says bleakly. “Sothis took that option away from me.”

Seteth inhales sharply. “The goddess?”

“My heart beats again because of her. I no longer have the powers of the Progenitor God. I… I think she’s done all this, somehow.”

Awestruck, Seteth stares at her. “Then where is she now if she is not within you?”

Byleth shakes her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know why she thought this was a good idea.”

There’s a long silence as Seteth considers this. It’s clear he has questions for her but she’s glad he’s not pressing her about it right now.

“Seteth,” she eventually says, staring at nothing. “I don’t know what to do. I have no place here.” And then, she whispers, “I want to die. I want to finally be allowed to die.”

“Byleth,” Seteth reaches out to take his hand in hers, voice pained. “Please do not say that. I have told you more than once that you are family to Flayn and I, and we will always be here for you. Always. _Please_ , Byleth, lean on us.” Byleth glances up to meet his eyes, surprised to see how upset he is. “You are not alone.”

.

Seteth makes his excuses and brings her back to Flayn’s apartment. He ends up sleeping over that night, cooking for all three of them and sleeping on the pull-out bed in the living area that has become Byleth’s. That night, Byleth curls up beside Flayn on her little twin bed and lets her stroke her hair until she finally falls asleep.

In the weeks that follow, Byleth grieves for her husband and for the friends she’s lost all over again. She doesn’t return to Garreg Mach. True to his word, Seteth is there for her, as is Flayn, but Byleth is aware that they have their own lives to lead. Both of them are far more sociable than they'd been before – Flayn has her own friends, and even Seteth is better about living for himself and not just his daughter.

For the first time in her life, Byleth feels like a burden.

It takes her some time to even venture back out into the town, and on the day she does, she sees Ferdinand and Lorenz, enjoying tea together at the cafe she’d visited before.

As she queues, she hears Ferdinand laugh loudly at something Lorenz says. She takes her usual drink and seat and tries not to stare at them through the window from where she sits outside.

She has no right to be this sad, to long to go over and speak to them.

Not when she’d killed Ferdinand in the war, on the Bridge of Myrddin, while Dimitri had killed Lorenz, knocking him off his horse and impaling him on Areadbhar.

The memories of it burn so bright in her mind; as bright as the blood that had splattered Ferdinand’s face and hair.

Byleth ends up leaving her tea untouched, practically fleeing the cafe.

.

Every night Byleth falls asleep and hopes Sothis will be in her dreams, just so she can scream at her; let loose all these awful feelings inside her that she can’t around anyone else.

Instead, every night she dreams of Felix and every morning she wakes and wonders if this grief is embedded so deeply into her that there’ll never be room for anything else.

.

When she next considers going to Garreg Mach, Byleth approaches Seteth first, asking if there’s a chance of her using the training grounds in off-peak hours.

“I can arrange that for you, of course,” he says carefully. “But it does not ensure you won’t run into anyone.”

“I know,” she replies, voice soft, diverting her eyes over to the window. Another cloudy, gusty day. “But I need to do something. I’ve always trained.”

She can see he wants to say no, but it’s also clear that Seteth has learned to not be so overbearingly protective over the centuries. “Very well. I will make the arrangements. And Byleth? My office is in the same location it once was; you are welcome to visit me or use it as a place to get away… if you ever need to.”

Byleth nods, already knowing she won’t do that. She won’t burden him further.

.

She goes when it’s late – after dinnertime. In the approaching winter, it’s getting dark by the time she reaches the training grounds, swiping the keycard in the way Seteth had explained to her before trying the door.

It clicks open, and she steps inside.

The layout is entirely different to how it had been before, and the area much bigger. Her eyes look with interest at a sign marked _shooting range_ before she keeps exploring.

There are a handful of people here, but they mostly seem to be passing to and from the large building that looms over the training grounds. The gym, she’d seen it was called.

Eventually, she finds the rack of training swords, not far from some dummies. Everything is different in so many ways, but this – a sword in her hand – _this_ is a welcome familiarity.

This is the first time Byleth has felt remotely like herself since she’s woken up. She may not have a place here in this world, but she has this, small as it may be, and she’ll cling onto it to save herself from drowning.

As she begins warming up, she realises immediately that she’s going to be sore tomorrow. She’s taken it easy since she’d woken in this world where comfort and convenience seems to rule.

In a strange way, she finds she looks forward to the pain.

It’s not long before Byleth falls into familiar patterns and movements, hitting the dummy with precision strikes. It’s not as good as sparring with another person, of course, but it’s better than nothing.

But she’s not prepared for the alarming way her heart hammers as she exerts herself. When she hears someone approaching, she uses that as an excuse to pause in her movements, turning her head to see who it is.

She freezes in shock when she finds herself looking at Felix, dressed in clothes that show he’s also here to train.

He also pauses when he notices her, eyes going from her face, to her sword, and back again. “It’s you,” he says, with clear curiosity.

And that’s all, Byleth tells herself. Mild curiosity at the woman who’d acted weird around him. There’s nothing else, because he doesn’t know who she is. He isn’t her husband.

She forces herself to look away, blinking rapidly at the training dummy instead, feeling that awful pressure in her chest rise up again.

Felix doesn’t seem to be too bothered about her lack of answer, instead moving to peruse the training swords himself.

She should still leave, Byleth knows. She’d seen him – hale and hearty. A life ahead of him. It doesn’t include her.

And yet she’d come here hoping she’d see him, she also knows. She’s not going to lie to herself. Because if this Felix is her Felix, he’d be here, training.

But now she doesn’t know what to do, and she cannot will her feet to move.

She can see him now, out of the corner of her eye. And he’s looking at her.

“Hey–“

Whatever he’s about to say is interrupted by the sounds of rapidly approaching footsteps, and soon Byleth hears another distant but familiar voice.

“Hey, Felix, you forgot this!” It’s Annette, smiling widely as she hands Felix something.

Despite everything, despite knowing she shouldn’t, Byleth’s head turns to watch. Her heart pounds.

Annette has given Felix a water bottle, and he smiles gratefully at her. “Thanks, Annie,” he murmurs, flicking open the bottle to take a drink, tilting his head back and exposing his neck. Byleth’s mouth goes dry. She knows how sensitive his neck his, how much he loved to feel her drag her teeth over the sensitive skin and suck at–

Annette places a hand on his arm, still smiling at him.

And Byleth is shamed by the sickening swirl of jealousy that rises in her – at _Annette_ , she screams at herself, it’s _Annette_ – and she forces herself once again to look away, to stare at the stupid wooden dummy and wishing she could be as unfeeling as it – as unfeeling as she’d been the very first time she’d come to Garreg Mach.

She doesn’t hear what else Annette and Felix talk about, because there’s a rushing in her ears.

This has been a terrible idea.

“Hey.” Felix’s voice, brusque and suddenly so close to her, jolts her in surprise. He’s standing near her now, training sword in hand. Annette is still a distance behind him, looking on with interest. “Spar with me.”

How often had he said those words to her over the years? In so many ways. Brusque, like he is now. Impatient. Fondly. Seductively, in his own Felix-like manner, for the times when he knew exactly what sparring would lead to.

Byleth opens her mouth, but no words come out. Not when he’s within touching distance and staring at her intensely, sword in hand and ready to fight, looking so similar to how he had the day they had married.

 _I miss you_ , she wants to say. _I miss you so much and you’re right here and you don’t know who I am._

The sword falls out of her shaking hand, and Felix’s brow crinkles. “Are you alright?” he asks carefully.

Byleth can see Annette approaching them, her own eyes wide with concern, but she can’t make out what she says.

She has to get out of here.

Each step feels like she’s trying to move against the current of a fast flowing river.

Each steps takes her a little further away from Felix.

“I’m sorry,” she manages to say before she leaves, pressing her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob.

.

Felix stares after the retreating woman, confused and annoyed.

“That’s the second time she’s done that,” he snaps.

“Who is she, Felix?” Annette asks, looking worried.

He shrugs. “Dean Seteth’s niece, but I don’t know her.” Then frowns. “I– I don’t think I know her.”

“She looked at you like she knows you. But she looked so sad.” Annette sighs. “I hope she’s okay.”

Felix glances down at the sword the woman had dropped, unsure what to do. He hadn’t had a chance to see her use the sword, but something tells him she’d be a worthy opponent.

He feels like there’s something he’s not remembering, something that he should remember. Like trying to chase a dream.

“Do you know her name?” Annette asks.

His mouth opens to answer, and there’s a word there, a name. But in the next second it’s gone, and he shakes his head in frustration. “No. You know what? I”m going to find out why she’s so weird around me.” He thrusts his training sword at Annette. “Can you put these away?”

He’s already walking away, and Annette huffs. “Felix! You better be nice to her!”

Felix waves a hand in response, thoughts already completely focused on the strange, blue haired woman, and he moves quickly through the halls of the training grounds, seeing no sign of her anywhere. Pushing open the doors, though, he spots her quickly, sitting on the ground near some of the bushes with her head between her legs and her hands clutching at her hair.

He jogs over to her, hearing her take deep breaths, and whatever annoyance he’d felt at her for her behaviour bleeds away, at least for the moment, because there’s obviously something wrong with her.

Crouching down in front of her, he tries not to be offended when she flinches away, but it’s difficult. He frowns at the top of her head. And… he’s not actually sure what to do with someone who might be having a panic attack, but then the woman sits up, looking at him warily, making him think it’s not that bad after all.

“What’s your name?” It seems as good a question as any to start with, but it seems to make the woman look more sad.

“Byleth.”

He rolls the name around in his head, sure he’s heard it somewhere before. “Are you alright?”

She stares at him with a look of such intensity that Felix has to glance away, feeling his cheeks flush. It’s not that he hadn’t noticed she was pretty the first time he’d seen her, but it’s different up close, when she’s looking at him like that. Confused, he stands up and takes a step back, and the woman – _Byleth_ – lets out a sigh.

“I’m fine,” she says in a monotone and it’s so obviously a lie that Felix barks out a laugh.

“Look, I don’t know if it’s me you don’t like, or what, but I just wanted to ch– my friend thought I should see if you were okay.” He shrugs.

“Don’t worry about me,” she responds in such a faraway voice that he doesn’t know what to say.

“You’re…you’re weird,” is what he settles on.

A sad half smile forms on her face as she looks at him again. “I’ve been told that before.”

“They were right.”

The smile widens a little. “He usually was.”

Felix is still blushing under her gaze, feeling it warm him from the inside out. He swallows, becoming gruff. “Then I’m right when I tell you this too: stop being so weak.”

The smile falls, and Felix feels a stab of guilt. “Weak?”

“What else would you call this?” He gestures at her vaguely. “If you want to hold a sword, you can’t run away like that. What use would you be in a battle?”

Byleth takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Her eyes drop to the ground, and Felix wishes she’d look at him again. There’s something about those blue eyes that–

“I’d be better than you think,” she says, quiet but firm.

“Oh?” Now this is a topic he’s more comfortable with. “Then why don’t you come back and show me?”

With a pained expression, she shuts her eyes, leaving Felix once again perplexed at her strange reactions.

“I can’t,” she finally says. “I’m sorry.”

“Tomorrow, then,” he replies, insistent.

But she shakes her head, opening her eyes. “I won’t be coming back.”

That bothers him, a lot, but he can’t figure out why.

Byleth stands before he can reply, and takes a careful step away from him. Felix watches her fiddle with a ring on one of her fingers.

She breathes in deeply. “I have to go, but can I ask you a question?”

Felix nods in reply, still trying to work out what he’s feeling.

“I apologise if this is hurtful, but… do you have a brother?”

Felix starts, surprised by the question. An uncomfortable feeling rises in him. “How do you know Glenn? Were you in Fhirdiad before you came here?” He fires the questions at her, because Glenn has certainly never mentioned meeting someone like this to him. Is that how she knew his name when he’d first seen her before? Who is she to Glenn?

_Why is he jealous?_

Byleth smiles at him, but there’s something heartbreaking about it. “No, no, I don’t know him. I just thought… it doesn’t matter. I’m glad he’s… here,” she finishes weakly, leaving Felix even more confused about everything.

She takes a step away from him.

Felix steps closer.

“Who are you?” he asks, exasperated, confused, angry.

“No one important.” Her smile widens and looks even more sad. “Goodbye, Felix.”

With that, she turns and walks away, and the sight of it seems so _wrong_ to him that he jogs after her.

“You never even told me how you knew my name. Just stop… stop walking and answer one of my questions!”

Without thinking, he reaches out to grab her, his hand circling her bare wrist. It’s enough to get her to stop moving, rocking back on her heels as she stares down at where he’s touching her.

Her skin is so soft. Her pulse thrums under his fingers.

Their eyes meet again and she looks… she looks haunted.

“Felix!” Annette’s voice rings out, and suddenly she’s there beside him, pulling on his arm, and Felix lets go of Byleth, blinking like he’s in a daze.

“You can’t just grab someone,” Annette says, horrified. “I’m so sorry! He’s not usually like this.”

“It’s okay,” Byleth whispers, but there’s so much pain in her voice that it’s clearly not, and Felix, feeling guilty, glances at her wrist, afraid he’s hurt her. But the skin is unblemished, not even a hint of red to suggest he’d held her too tight.

But still. “I am sorry,” he says, guilt lingering.

She shakes her head again. “Don’t worry about it. I really have to go.” There’s a pleading note in her voice that says _please just let me leave_.

And Felix, not knowing what else to do, lets her go, watching her walk away and turn the corner out of his sight, and he can’t understand why he feels so bereft.

.

The hollow feeling Felix felt on seeing Byleth leave follows him around. Days pass and he feels worse, snapping at everyone and unable to understand why he feels so bad.

He has strange dreams that he can never quite remember when he wakes up. But he’s sure Byleth is in them.

The weather grows harsher, and every evening Felix braves it to go to the training grounds, hoping to see Byleth there. But he never sees her. She’d been telling the truth when she told him she wouldn’t be back.

And that _bothers_ him.

Felix can’t explain it to anyone else, because he can’t explain it to himself. The only person he even mentions her to is Annette, who’s been worried about him ever since that night, bewildered by Felix’s attitude.

“It’s okay if you have a crush on her, Felix,” she says, matter of factly.

He bristles. “I don’t even know her.”

Annette sighs. “You don’t need to– Look, you said she’s Dean Seteth’s niece, right? Did you know his daughter is a student here?”

“No.”

“Flayn,” Annette continues. “She’s really nice. Ignatz has a few classes with her, I know they’re friends.”

“Oh…” Felix thinks for a moment, and realises he does know her. “She has green hair, doesn’t she? I think she spoke to me a little last year. She was a bit strange.”

Annette laughs. “She’s a sweetheart, Felix, so don’t be mean. And yes, green hair. I feel like she’s someone everyone has spoken to at some point. She’s just friendly. You couuuuuld try asking her about Byleth.”

Felix falls silent, watching the rain tap on the windows of the dining hall. In front of him, his mostly uneaten dinner is going cold.

“Yeah,” he eventually says. “I think I might.”

.

It takes Felix a couple more days to approach Flayn. He loiters around the art building in the hopes of seeing her.

He’s tried to talk himself out of doing this – after all, he doesn’t know Byleth.

But he can’t forget about her. He can’t understand why her look of pain bothers him so. Why it feels like it’s haunting him. He’d even picked up the phone and called Glenn, who’d been perplexed at Felix asking in a demanding voice did he know anyone called Byleth, and Felix can’t even think about how relieved he was to hear that Glenn didn’t know her, even if it just raised more questions.

He can’t understand why he can’t stop thinking about Byleth.

His loitering pays off. It’s easy to spot Flayn, chattering animatedly to a boy by her side that Felix ignores as he steps in front of them.

“Flayn. Can I talk to you?”

Her eyes widen and she looks around. “Oh. Felix.” Her voice pitches high, and she looks flustered. “I am… very busy.”

He has to curb his impatience and not snap at her. “It won’t take long.” And then. “Please.”

Something anxious crosses her face. “Very well.” She turns to her friend. “Will you excuse us?”

Felix leads her over to a quiet part of the building, away from the high traffic areas, and starts off with no preamble. “Where’s Byleth?”

Flayn’s eyes widen comically. “May I ask why you wish to know?”

“We spoke and she was… upset. I’d just like to know she’s alright.”

“Oh. She–“ Flayn seems to struggle with what to say. “She has been going through a hard time recently.” She smiles briefly at him, looking at him with a soft expression. “It’s very sweet for you to be so concerned, Felix.”

He glances away, flushing. “I thought I had upset her. I just wanted to make sure she was okay.”

The smile fades, and Felix notices her twisting the fabric at the hem of her shirt with her fingers. “It… I believe you remind her of someone she lost. As I said, she has been having a difficult time.”

“Who?” Felix can’t help his curiosity, some need to know just who is the person he reminds Byleth of.

“I wish I could tell you, Felix, but I must respect my cousin’s privacy.” Flayn is obviously conflicted.

And Felix can understand that, but… “Can I talk to her?”

Flayn’s shoulders sag a little at that, and she shakes her head. “She left Garreg Mach a few days ago.”

That just makes Felix more anxious. “Can I at least have her phone number?” he asks, impatient again.

“She never turns her phone on. Byleth is terrible with technology. She told me she would try to remember but that she’ll probably write.”

 _Write_? Once again Felix has to hold back his wave of irritation.

“Where has she gone?”

Flayn looks torn. “I don’t know if I should tell you. Why do you wish to know?”

“I need to know.” The words burst out of him, louder than he’d intended, gathering the attention of a few people passing by. He drags a hand down his face while Flayn looks at him in shock.

“Please, Flayn,” he tries again, softer. “I need to know.”

She gnaws at her lip. “What will you do if I tell you?”

“I can’t explain it. I need to see her. I can’t stop thinking about her.” The words tumble forth now that he’s started, the confusing mass of feelings that have been building up since the first time he’d seen Byleth unable to stay hidden. He’ll be embarrassed about this later. “I don’t know why. I’ve only met her twice.”

He doesn’t understand the look on Flayn’s face, or why her eyes are shining. “She’s gone to Fraldarius, Felix. She wanted to see the castle.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for making everyone sad in the last chapter. Hope this make up for it.

The town of Fraldarius is much larger than she remembers, but as Byleth makes her way through what had been the main part of the town in her time, she can see that an effort has been made to preserve some of the old architecture and paved stones.

The old quarter, it’s called now.

Tourism seems to be a big business here, although now on a chilly, wintery afternoon, it’s mostly quiet. Byleth meanders her way through streets all at once familiar and not, until she finds the path that takes her up the hill to the castle that had once been her home.

It’s mostly a hotel now, Flayn had told her, but there’s also a museum.

It’s probably a bad idea to come here, just as it had been a bad idea to go to the training grounds where it was inevitable she’d see Felix.

But Byleth doesn’t know what else to do. All she knows is that she can’t stay at Garreg Mach, not while Felix is there, along with so many people she’d once known – or once killed. It doesn’t seem right.

She doesn’t know how Seteth and Flayn can stand it.

Byleth's anger at Sothis over everything ebbs and flows, and she ends up concluding that whatever the goddess did, she made a mistake. There’s no way she meant for Byleth to suffer like this.

Pushing thoughts of Sothis from her head, Byleth begins making her way to the castle, which still looms large over the town. From a distance, the castle looks the same, but as she gets closer she can see some changes.

Seteth had booked and paid for a room in the castle hotel. He’d disapproved, but hadn’t said much to change her mind, likely knowing his words wouldn’t be heeded. Byleth appreciated the support, begrudging though it might be. She’ll have to figure out some way to repay both Seteth and Flayn, if she can ever find something she’s useful at in this world.

Up close, she can see the main entrance to the castle has been modernised, and what was once a garden now seems to be a place for people to park their cars. She wrinkles her nose in distaste at that. The garden had looked much nicer than this, and Byleth decides she doesn’t like cars.

She does like the trains, though. She'd enjoyed the now much shorter trip up to Fraldarius from Garreg Mach on one, face pressed to the window the entire time.

Turning her attention back towards the castle, Byleth steps through the doors, heart in her mouth, and takes in the high ceilings and archways of the home she’d loved best.

“Hi, can I help you?” A perky sounding woman calls over to Byleth from a desk situated in the middle of the hall that looks completely out of place to Byleth’s eyes.

She moves towards the desk slowly, eyes still roving over everything. There are chairs and tables scattered around. Some swords hang on the walls that were never there in her time; she’s not close enough to see if she recognises any of them.

Ignoring the friendliness of the woman behind the desk, Byleth is brusque in giving her name. _Byleth Cichol_.

It feels strange on her tongue but Seteth had warned her that using Eisner or especially Fraldarius could potentially attract too much attention, at least here.

The woman chatters away, giving Byleth a key and directions to her room. Byleth only half listens, still gazing around the hall.

“Where is the museum?” she interrupts, and the woman, unperturbed by her rudeness, tells her where she can find it.

“It is closing in about twenty minutes, though,” she adds. “But it’s free to visit for those staying in the hotel, and will open at nine tomorrow morning.”

Byleth nods, a little disappointed. Seteth had paid for two nights here, and told her pointedly to call him if she needed anything. He’d also given her money, probably more than she’d need. He’d mentioned something about getting her a card with money on it that she hadn’t quite understood or really cared to listen to, but she’d promised to pay him back when she could.

Seteth had dismissed that, telling her not to worry, and simply pressed on Byleth to please keep her phone charged and stay in touch.

.

Her room is one of the old guest rooms. Not the best ones, that Dimitri or Sylvain or Ingrid or the others used to stay in, but still nice, and with a view overlooking the land at the back of the castle, which Byleth is pleased to see remains somewhat similar to how it had been before.

She’s not sure she’s ever been in this particular room, and she’s oddly grateful for that. Still, it’s strange to flick a switch and see the electricity light up the room, or to go into the little box that’s been cut into the room to make a bathroom.

There’s an ugly painting over the bed of some flowers. Byleth frowns at it, resisting the urge to take it down because she has to remember that it's not her place to do that.

Instead she lies down on the bed, not bothering to unpack her bag or even take off her shoes. For a long time she stares out the window, at the sky outside, watching it grow darker, feeling like a ghost haunting a home that isn’t even hers any longer.

.

The next morning finds her waiting impatiently for the museum to open. She’d picked listlessly at her breakfast, unsettled and irritated by the former ballroom being used to serve a mediocre breakfast buffet.

Once the museum opens, the attendant hands her a pamphlet containing a map and information, and talks a little about the history of the castle. Byleth is surprised to realise that a lot of what they have here is more recent history, long after her time.

But then the attendant goes on to say, “We do have a section dedicated to the last Duke and Duchess of Fraldarius, both heroes of the War of Unification.” She smiles and points out an area on the map to Byleth. “The Duchess was also Archbishop of the Church of Seiros for a time. She was very devout and spent a lot of time in Garreg Mach, but she stepped down to spend more time with her husband, and they both devoted themselves to bettering Fraldarius and all of Fódlan.”

Byleth blinks at the woman, wanting to laugh and scream and cry all at once at her own life being told to her like this.

Devout? _Where_ had they gotten that idea from?

.

Byleth bypasses everything that has nothing to do with her or Felix. Maybe later she’ll check it out and try to understand what’s happened since she slept. But for now, she makes a beeline to the area focused on their time.

It’s easy to find, because it’s located in their former personal rooms.

She’s not sure what she expects to find there. Or what she’s even looking for.

What she discovers is a collection of random items – some of which she recognises, some she doesn’t, but it's all disquieting to her – in her old solar. There are more weapons here, mostly swords. She steps as close to the barrier as she can and can see that some of these, at least, had been hers and Felix’s.

She smiles slightly at the sight of the sword of Zoltan.

On a large table, there are letters spread out, encased in glass boxes to prevent people from touching them. Most of them are boring – accounts from the steward, letters from petitioners. Their inclusion here is only due to the fact that they’re dated from when Felix had been Duke. Of more interest to Byleth is a letter in her own hand that begins:

‘ _Dear Felix, I think I’m getting more sentimental as I get older because all I can think to say to you is how much I miss you._ ’

Byleth steps back, breath catching in her throat. She remembers this letter. It had been one of the last she’d sent from Garreg Mach before stepping down so she could stay in Fraldarius with Felix.

Felix must have kept it and it was found… when? By who? _Who_ decided to put her private letter on display like this?

Blindly, Byleth turns away, not wanting to see anymore, not wanting to think about all the people that read this letter that had been intended for one set of eyes only. The whole letter is sentimental and playful, a private one she’d sent alongside one devoted solely to business. She remembers writing it, and purposefully writing words she knew would get Felix to blush, even years into their marriage.

Byleth groans. There’s a part of that letter that talks about wanting his hands on her – _his talented fingers that know her as well as his sword._

Needing to get away from the letter and the idea that people have seen something so intimate between her and her husband, Byleth continues out of the room, mostly ignoring all the little placards beside various items that talk about her life with Felix. Some things are correct, some are wrong, and some are so subtly different from the actual truth that it might be funny if she hadn't been so unsettled by it all.

Eventually, Byleth turns into what had been their bedroom, and immediately whirls back out again, because somehow it looks exactly the same as it had the last time she’d been in there; when she’d fallen asleep beside Felix and he’d taken his last breath. She’d never gone back in after he’d died, unable to bear it, and she'd left Fraldarius not long after he was buried, disappearing into a snow storm after saying goodbye to a grieving Sylvain that she'd known was also close to death.

That’s their bed. On that dresser is a hairbrush they’d both used. Felix’s sword is artfully placed, leaning against a chair. The same tapestry is hanging on the wall. And that’s all she’d taken in during the few seconds she’d been in there.

She can’t stay in this room and keep herself together, so Byleth careens haphazardly down the hallway, glad she’d come here early and that there is no one else around.

Taking another corner, she flees into one of the smaller dining rooms they’d often used when it was just the two of them.

What she sees brings her up short.

Along the sides of the room are some desks with items, much like the other room, and behind them on the wall is a chart. It looks like some kind of timeline.

Byleth ignores that, stepping into the centre of the room, where there are several upholstered benches. Her eyes are on the painting that dominates the space – the huge portrait of her and Felix, the one that Ignatz had painted several years after the war.

Neither of them had wanted to sit for it, but Dimitri had paid the commission and it was _Ignatz_ , who’d barely survived fighting against them at Gronder. Felix had acquiesced, and Byleth can’t help but smile as she looks at it, because Ignatz had painted Felix with the scowl he’d worn the entire time they’d had to sit for the portrait. He’d made no attempt to soften the expression and perhaps that’s why Byleth has always loved it. Ignatz had captured Felix perfectly – all dressed up in the finery of a Duke and completely irritated at being made to sit for a painting.

Felix’s eyes are piercing in the portrait, almost glaring out at the viewer. Ignatz had gotten that detail perfect. But it’s at odds to the way he’s sitting. In the painting, Byleth is leaning into Felix, also looking at the viewer, but with a small smile on her face. And Felix is also turned into her, with one of his hands around her waist, pressing her to him, while his other hand is encased in both of hers in her lap. She remembers how his fingers had twitched under her hold, impatient to be off and doing something more important than sitting around idly.

She’d refused to wear any of her Archbishop regalia for the portrait, and is wearing a dress in the Fraldarius colours, matching Felix. On either side of them are their swords, leaning against the long chair they’re sitting on – Felix’s favourite sword that she’d just seen in their old bedroom, and the Sword of the Creator.

Byleth sits heavily on the bench directly in front of the painting, itching to trace her fingers over Felix’s face. But the portrait is cordoned off, and she knows if she touches it they’ll make her leave.

So instead she just sits and stares at it, taking in details she’d never noticed before – how soft Felix’s hair looks, down around his shoulders because she’d asked him to wear it loose for the portrait. She admires the way the light hits the folds of their clothes. How comfortable they look around each other. The startling green of her hair and eyes, now gone. Or the crests etched onto their swords, details that had never existed, that Ignatz had added from his imagination.

Byleth no longer holds the Crest of Flames, and from what she can gather, crests have also died out in this world – with the exception of Flayn and Seteth. The Felix in this world has no crest either, then.

Eventually she drags her eyes away from the portrait to read the plaque beside it. _Portrait of Felix and Byleth Fraldarius, the last Duke and Duchess of Fraldarius, painted by Ignatz Victor in the year 1192_. _This is the only remaining portrait of them together._

This is the only portrait of them together, period. There had never been another made.

Byleth had sat for a couple of portraits as Archbishop. She has no idea what might have happened to them. But this is the only one Felix ever sat for.

.

She sits and stares at the portrait until her stomach starts demanding food, after which she goes into the town again to eat and then wander aimlessly, restless and tired all at once. That night, she tosses and turns and hardly sleeps despite being exhausted. She itches to pick up a sword and hit something, and has to make do with pacing around the small room.

Coming here has made her feel worse. This isn’t her home anymore. That museum has only echos of her life with Felix, many of them distorted from the truth.

There’s no place for her here.

And yet the next day Byleth finds herself in front of the portrait again, unable to stop the silent tears rolling down her face.

.

Felix has actually never been to Fraldarius. He’d grown up in Fhirdiad, with Dimitri, Sylvain and Ingrid, and had known his surname was the same as the old region’s name. He remembers Sylvain saying more than once they should roadtrip through Galatea, Fraldarius and Gautier, and then go north to Sreng, but they’d never gotten around to doing it.

He’d always meant to visit, just to see it out of some vague curiosity. But it had never seemed like the right time, and him having that name was just a coincidence. There were probably lots of people called Fraldarius.

Now, as he steps off the train, he wonders why he hasn’t come sooner. The place is welcoming. It feels comfortable, like how he feels when he returns home to Fhirdiad.

He hadn’t told anyone he was coming here. Instead, he'd just left a note on the kitchen table in the flat he shares with Sylvain saying he’d be away for a few days and didn’t give any details. He hasn’t had a call yet, which means Sylvain likely hasn’t seen it, but Felix knows he’s busy in classes all day.

Felix can’t bring himself to care about his own classes. He’ll make up for it when he gets back to Garreg Mach.

His feet take him automatically to the centre of the town, where everything looks older, and then on up to the castle. There’s an itching under his skin, something restless he can’t understand. There’s a need to find Byleth that makes no sense.

 _She wanted to see the castle_ , Flayn had said.

That had been yesterday. Felix had spent the rest of the day in a state of high agitation, dragging Dimitri to the training grounds and sparring with him until his muscles had trembled from exhaustion. He can still feel the effects of it today.

He’d ignored every concerned question from Dimitri because Felix knows if he attempts to explain he’ll sound crazy.

Late last night, as he'd tried and failed to sleep, Felix had decided to follow Byleth to Fraldarius. She can explain why he feels like this, he's sure. It's something to do with her, after all. Maybe she can stop it.

And somehow, before he knows it, he’s standing at the entrance to Fraldarius castle with a knot in his stomach. He enters, eyes passing over the room, feeling unsettled, like there's something wrong about it.

He approaches the desk and hardly lets the woman say anything before he blurts out, “Can you tell me if someone I know is staying here?”

The woman shakes her head. “I’m sorry, sir, we do not give out personal information on any of our guests.”

He scowls even though he’d expected this answer. “Fine. Can I have a room?”

Handing over his card to pay, Felix continues to look around the room, trying to figure out what’s bothering him about it. The exclamation of surprise from the woman behind catches his attention.

“What?”

“Oh, I'm sorry, it’s just that you have the same name as the last Duke of Fraldarius. This was his castle, you know.”

“I know that,” Felix snaps, irritated. _Everyone_ knows that. 

“You look a little like him too," she goes on, seemingly unbothered by his rudeness. "We have a portrait in the museum, which is free for guests to visit. Is he one of your ancestors?”

Felix resists the urge to roll his eyes. “I don’t know. Can I have my key?”

Now the woman looks slightly abashed at his tone, and simply hands him back his card and keys and tells him where to find his room.

He ignores that, though, and heads in the direction of the sign saying _museum_. He’s not sure what’s propelling him in that direction. Maybe he just wants to see if he really looks like the Duke or not.

There’s only a handful of people in the museum – it’s obviously a quiet time of year for visitors – and Felix ignores the person trying to hand him a pamphlet and wanders through the rooms freely. There’s a lot of talk about the improvements made to the land and the quality of life that he skims over quickly, more interested in the display of swords and weapons owned by the Fraldarius family.

Felix really doesn’t know if he’s descended from them, or just happens to have the same last name. He doesn’t really care, either. What difference did it make to him?

But he likes the swords, and the other weapons.

Noticing a sign directing to the rooms of the last Duke and Duchess of Fraldarius, Felix heads in that direction, looking for the portrait.

As he steps into the rooms, the feeling of agitation grows in him, and there’s a buzzing in his head, something prodding at him that he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t stop to look at the exhibits, not even the swords, passing through to another room that brings him up short.

A bedroom.

His first thought is, _that chair isn’t in the right place_.

It used to be under the window.

Felix shakes his head, pushing the thought away. He’s never been here before.

So why does it look so familiar?

The bed, the sword, the tapestry, everything. How does he know exactly what view of the gardens the window offers even from this distance?

For a wild moment he considers crossing the rope barrier, and touching something. Picking up that sword leaning by the chair and seeing if he’s right about exactly how much it weighs and how it fits perfectly into his hand.

Unable to understand what he’s feeling, Felix turns away, back out into the hall, aimlessly wandering through some of the other rooms, feeling the same unsettling displacement and knowledge of things he shouldn’t know in each one.

Eventually, he finds the portrait. It dominates the room it’s in, bigger than life-size.

His own face is staring back at him. In the portrait, there’s a woman, too, who looks almost exactly like Byleth. Only the hair colour is different. As Felix steps closer he realises her eyes are green in the portrait.

He’s only met Byleth twice, but she’d had big blue eyes.

 _It’s not her,_ he thinks wildly. _This isn’t me._

Of course it isn’t.

_Of course it isn’t._

What a ridiculous thought. It’s coincidence. These people lived hundreds of years ago. So why can he remember how soft the fabric of that dress she’s wearing had been under his fingers?

_She’d looked so beautiful in that dress._

He’d hated sitting for this picture.

He’d torn that dress off her as soon as their last session was finished, much preferring Byleth without all the finery of either a Duchess or Archbishop. He loves her best in her scruffy mercenary gear.

Or nothing at all.

Shaking his head free of _that_ sudden image, Felix feels his face heat up, glancing around the room furtively like the other people milling around could hear what he's thinking.

He steps closer, eyes dragging across the faces in the portrait, desperately searching for an answer. His eyes are the exact same shade as those of the man in the picture.

The plaque beside the painting catches Felix's attention, but he doesn’t even read the whole thing. He gets six words in before his brain stops working.

_Portrait of Felix and Byleth Fraldarius._

Felix has never much paid attention to history, not unless it’s historical battles and attack plans. The names of people usually never mattered. He’s sure at some point he’d learned that the last Duchess of Fraldarius had been called Byleth – but he’s long since forgotten.

He stares at the name for a long time, a little bubble of hysteria rising in him as he remembers what Flayn had said, and he wonders if the Byleth he’d met is some kind of ghost of the duchess and he reminds her of her dead husband.

 _Fuck_.

“Excuse me, sir.” A voice, polite and quiet by his side, makes Felix jump, and then scowl to cover both his embarrassment and everything else he’s feeling.

A man wearing a uniform smiles apologetically. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to let you know that the museum is closing in ten minutes.” He blinks as he looks at Felix, and his eyes widen, darting between him and the painting. “Wow. I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but you really look like Felix Fraldarius.”

That makes Felix flinch. He wants to snap at this man, because he _is_ Felix Fraldarius, and there’s no one else like him.

Except, he’s now been presented with the evidence that that might not be strictly true.

So instead, he storms out of the room, back down the hallway, and through the rest of the museum and out into the dark evening. He breaks out into a jog, and keeps going until he’s sprinting, not entirely sure what he’s trying to outrun.

.

There’s a storm that night, angry and loud, right over Fraldarius castle, and Felix can’t help but think it reflects his mood. He sits for a long time by the window, watching the forked lightning dance across the sky and strike the ground. A part of him wants to run outside again.

Sylvain had called at some point in the evening, but Felix had ignored it. Then his phone had blown up with calls from Ingrid, Dimitri, and Ashe. Even Dedue had tried once. But it hadn’t taken long for them to bring out the big guns, when Annette’s name had flashed up on the screen and Felix had begrudgingly answered.

She had promised to tell the others he was okay, so long as _he_ promised to call her tomorrow. Felix had agreed, mostly just to get her off the phone. He doesn’t know what he's going tell her tomorrow.

_I’m having memories of places I’ve never been._

Though, perhaps Annette would be a good person to speak to; she studies magic, and perhaps that’s what it is. Some strange magic he's been pulled into.

And Byleth… he’s only met her twice but ever since he’d stepped into Fraldarius castle he feels like he’s missing a limb, because she should be at his side. He can feel the phantom brush of her hand against his, her fingers curling around his as she leans into him.

As they watch thunderstorms exactly like this.

But from their bedroom. That room he’d been in earlier that had seemed so intimately familiar.

She’s in this castle somewhere. He knows it. He has to find her. This is her fault, after all.

Felix groans, and rests his head against the cool glass of the window. He can feel a headache coming on.

.

It’s practically already morning when he finally falls asleep, and then his dreams are disturbed with flashes of blood and fighting. And Byleth, like some kind of warrior goddess by his side.

When he wakes up, Felix realises he’s missed breakfast and decides to go into the town for food while he contemplates what to do. Whether to go and try forget all this, or… or what? What is _this_ , exactly?

But as he reaches the lobby, his feet take him back in the direction of the museum, through the various displays and up the stairs leading to the private rooms of the last Duke and Duchess. He’ll just check the portrait quickly again, he decides, and then go get food.

He doesn’t know why he feels compelled to look at a portrait of a dead man who looks just like him. It’s not like it’s going to have changed since yesterday.

And yet, here he is, stepping into the room dominated by the portrait of the Duke and Duchess. But his eyes immediately fall instead on the figure sitting on the bench directly in front of the portrait. Her back is to him, but Felix is sure he recognises that dark blue hair.

“You!” he can’t help but exclaim loudly as he strides forward.

The figure starts, and rises from the bench. She turns, and Felix can see it _is_ Byleth, staring at him, obviously shocked. Her face is pale – too pale – making the dark shadows under her eyes stand out. Felix is sure he looks little better.

“Felix,” she breathes out. “What are you doing here?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but his words are lost as he registers the Byleth in front of him, and the Byleth in the portrait just behind her.

Save for the hair, they’re clearly identical. The same person. The artist – _Ignatz, he’d been a friend, became an artist after the war and Dimitri was his biggest patron_ – he was good. Captured her likeness perfectly. Except the Byleth in the painting is smiling softly, content, while the real one – is she real? – looks ill at ease.

She brushes some unruly hair out of her face, and Felix is transfixed by the movement. How often had he done that? Brushed hair out of her eyes after they’d been training and then leaned in for a kiss?

 _Never_ , he tries to tell himself.

“What are you?” The words fire out, anger masking his confusion. “What are you doing to me?”

Wary now, Byleth responds. “I’m not doing anything to you.”

Felix rounds the bench, stopping within touching distance of her. “Yes, you are. Why am I–“ his eyes flash to the portrait of himself on the wall. _No_ , not himself. He raises a hand and points a finger at it. “I’m not him!”

Byleth recoils, like he’d lashed out physically, pressing her hand to her heart. “I know that,” she says, obviously miserable.

“Do you? I’m not sure,” he snaps. “ _Who are you_?”

“I am _nobody_ ,” she responds, her voice rising in anger. “Why did you follow me here?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you! It doesn’t make any sense. Why am I–“ He stops, frustrated, and not sure if he should tell her.

“Why are you what?”

Felix glances quickly at the portrait of them. No. _No_ , not them. Not him.

“Why am I remembering things I shouldn’t?” he demands of her. “Ever since I got here.”

“I– I don’t know,” she says, staring at him with wide eyes. “What are you remembering? How did you know I was even here?”

He turns away, folding his arms, and staring up at the portrait like it might hold some answers. “I asked Flayn,” he admits, begrudgingly.

Byleth is silent at that, but he can still feel her eyes on him.

“Stop staring at me,” he eventually growls, exasperated.

“Excuse me! Is everything alright over here?” A bright voice interrupts them, and they both turn to find one of the museum staff looking at them both warily. But it fades away as he looks at them both. “Wow,” the man says with a laugh, “we should really hire you two as actors. All you need to do is dye your hair and you look exactly like–“

“I want to fight you,” Felix says loudly to Byleth, speaking over the man, who splutters in surprise.

“Sir! Please, I’ll have to ask you to leave if you–“

“Fine.” Byleth responds, just as loudly, straightening up as she glares at him. She turns her gaze on the attendant, who is looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Are the training grounds still here?”

“The train–“

“Training grounds,” Felix repeats impatiently. “This town keeps a militia. Where do they train?”

“W-well the castle still has barracks and training grounds in use, but –“

“That’ll do,” Byleth says coolly, spinning on her heel and striding out of the room.

Felix, still clinging onto his anger rather than face any other emotion, is quick behind her.

.

He remains close on her heels as they wind their way back through the castle, and outside into the blustery weather and around the side to where the barracks and training area are. Felix doesn’t let himself question the fact that, even without Byleth leading, he knows which way to go.

Although it looks different than how he remembers.

 _No_ , how he imagined it would look, he corrects himself. He doesn’t _remember_ this place. He’s never been here.

 _Fuck_.

It appears there are some soldiers stationed here. Felix isn’t surprised by that. Fódlan might have been united for a long time now, but he’s read about the old Faerghus military discipline. Much of Fódlan’s standing army still comes from old Faerghus, even though it’s many years since they’d last been at war.

Places like this provide training to any citizens wanting to learn how to use a weapon, as well as allow use of the training grounds. Felix had spent much of his childhood in places like this. So it’s straightforward for Byleth to request access in a clipped voice, with the solider manning the area looking on in slight bemusement at how intense they both are.

“We have a faith healer, if either of you get banged up,” she says, leading them to the racks of weapons. “You both look like you’re spoiling for a fight.”

Felix scowls, taking the wooden sword from her, testing the weight of it. He watches Byleth do the same, and with a final look between them, the solider takes off.

There are a few other people training, but no one pays them any attention as they face each other.

“First blow?” Byleth asks, face carefully blank.

“Fine.”

Felix watches the way she’s moving. He’s wanted to do this since he’d seen her in the training grounds. He’d _known_ she’d be good at this, that she’d be a worthy opponent.

He attacks, striking fast, and Byleth blocks him, easily. She’s as quick as him, but Felix is just as quick to follow up, attempting to hit her in the spots she leaves undefended.

But it’s like she knows what he’s doing before he’s doing it himself, and it doesn’t take long before Felix grows frustrated. He gets even more annoyed when she remains on the defensive, not making any attacks of her own.

“What are you waiting for?” he all but snarls at her, brushing a lock of hair that’s escaped from its tie out of his face.

Her eyes follow the movement. “I’m waiting for you to really start trying to hit me.”

Felix’s eyes narrow, and his temper flares. He raises his sword again, intent on showing her exactly what he’s capable of. He’ll show her what he can do.

But it doesn’t seem to matter. Regardless of what moves or feints he makes, or how quick he is, Byleth always seems to be one step ahead, gracefully dodging or blocking his attack with far more strength than she looks to possess.

She fights like she knows exactly what he’s going to do. Like someone familiar with his fighting style. With a howl of frustration at that thought, Felix forces her backwards, not giving her an inch, but still, _still_ , she manages to evade his blows.

Byleth doesn’t let him corner her against the wall. Now she begins to move offensively, testing his defenses, this time pushing him back. And Felix can’t keep up with her.

It’s not long before she strikes a blow against his side. It’s not a hard blow, but it sends him stumbling backwards.

He regains his footing and stance, and raises his sword. “Again.”

Byleth sighs. “I don’t want to go again.”

“Well, I _do_.”

“You won’t beat me like this, Felix.”

“Ridiculous. I’ve beaten you plenty of times before.” The words are out of his mouth before he realises.

Byleth’s eyes widen.

“I–“ Felix starts. Stops. The knowledge that he’s beaten her before – countless times, but they were pretty even, really – is embedded in him, a knowledge as sure as the fact that the sun will rise and set every day. That knowledge is there before he actually _remembers_ the first time he had beaten her. Her hair had been green, then.

“When we spar, I feel like I’m revisiting my past.”

As he speaks, Felix realises he’s said these words before.

Byleth has gone very still.

His sword drops to the ground and he clenches his fists to stop his hands trembling. “What is this?” he asks, shakily.

Byleth moves forward quickly, grabbing his arm. “Come on.” Leading him away, she calls out something to the woman who’d let them in, but Felix doesn’t hear it. He’s too distracted by her familiar and foreign touch.

She manoeuvres him out of the training grounds and over to a bench by the side of the castle, encouraging him to sit.

“Tell me,” Felix gasps, looking up at her, not caring about how conflicted she looks because he needs to know what is happening to him. “Tell me I’m not _him_. The Duke.”

Her eyes search his face for a moment before she drops down heavily beside him. “You’re not, I don’t think. But you seem to remembering his memories.”

He turns to stare at her, wanting to argue, to refute what she’s just said, but he can’t. “And you?”

She curls into herself, not looking at him. “My name is Byleth Eisner. I married Felix Fraldarius in 1185, the same year I became Archbishop of the Church of Seiros, and the same year Felix became Duke Fraldarius. The same year Fódlan was reunified under King Dimitri.”

Dimitri.

The boar. Felix sees him in dark armour with one blue eye wild and dangerous, the other covered with an eye patch. His lance stained with blood and long hair matted and filthy.

No, _Dimitri_. Dimitri who he’d grown up with alongside Ingrid and Sylvain, who had two eyes and kept his hair around his shoulders but always made sure it was clean and neat. The Dimitri who painstakingly tried to learn everything about flowers because Dedue liked them. That's the Dimitri he knows, not some... some monster.

And again he wants to respond with a comment to show how ridiculous he thinks that is, but all he manages to say is, “How are you here _now_?”

He can see her gathering herself, like she’s pulling some invisible protective shield around her body. “The goddess.”

This time, he can’t help his scoff.

But then he remembers that Byleth used to have green hair. She hadn’t, at first, he recalls. Her hair had been dark like it is now.

And then the goddess…

She didn’t age because of it. He had grown old while she didn’t age.

He had died. In her arms. He’d fallen asleep holding onto her, knowing he wouldn’t wake again, and full of regret for how much she would grieve. He’d cursed his failing body but there was little else he could do because he’d fight anything and anyone for Byleth, but neither of them – not even Byleth, with all her powers – could fight forever against the march of time.

“No!” Felix exclaims, standing up, horrified to find tears welling up in his eyes.

The last thing he’d said to her was that he loved her.

Byleth stands too, a hand hovering in the air between them before she drops it, clearly uncertain about whether she should touch him or not.

He turns away, wiping roughly at his eyes. “What do you mean?” he bites out. “ About the goddess?”

“I didn’t know what to do after… after my husband died. I went to sleep. Like I did…” She hesitates again. “Like I did for five years, before. Except longer.”

_Five years._

“After the battle at Garreg Mach,” Felix whispers. “I looked for you.”

 _Fuck_.

Byleth doesn’t acknowledge that he’s used the word _I_ in that statement, and continues talking. “I saw the goddess as I was sleeping. She was different… more powerful. She was able to remove the crest stone from my heart. I lost her powers, but I gained a heartbeat.”

Felix remembers the first time he’d placed his hand on her chest. Byleth hadn't been able to completely hide her anxiety about the lack of heartbeat. She’d watched him from under her eyelashes, hand circling his wrist.

He hadn’t cared. She was there, and alive, and that’s what mattered.

Byleth takes a deep breath. “Sothis said she was giving me one last gift. I… I remember the pain of her removing the crest stone. And she said how sad it was for us to have the scars of war on us. But not much else.”

He rounds on her. “You think this is what she meant?” He casts his eyes up at the castle. “That I’m here, that… _fuck_ , that _we’re all here_ – Dimitri and Sylvain and Ingrid and everyone – because of the goddess?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Byleth replies quietly. “But I think so.”

“Can you still turn back time?”

She starts in surprise at that. And even Felix is surprised at the words spilling out of himself; here's another fact that he’d known without realising, without there being any explanation for how he knew it. There's not even surprise that he knows the woman in front of him can – or could – turn back time. There's not even disbelief.

“No,” she answers, still quiet. “The Sword of the Creator–“ her eyes find his face again, seeing the spark of recognition on it “–no longer responds to me. I don’t have a crest.”

“How come no one else remembers?”

“Seteth and Flayn do, because they’re similar to how I used to be. But to answer your question, it’s something else I don’t know.”

Felix blinks at that, suddenly recalling every strange conversation he’s had with either Seteth or Flayn in the last couple of years.

And suddenly recalling even older conversations, sitting around tables in ancient stone buildings lit only by candlelight.

His head begins to hurt.

“Seteth said it was for the best,” Byleth goes on. “That none of you remembered the war or the horrors we all went through. That we should just accept everyone has been given a second chance to live peacefully.”

Felix frowns. “Then why do I–“ He gasps suddenly, stepping back like he’s been struck. “ _Glenn_.” Glenn had died. Glenn was dead. He’d died at Duscur. His sword and dented armour had been sent back to this very castle and his father had said “ _he died like a true knight._ ”

A sob rips through him. Grief he didn’t know he was capable of feeling rips through him like a blade.

“I’m sorry,” Byleth says, miserable. “I’m so sorry, Felix.”

“I have to go,” Felix mutters, looking around them wildly. He needs to talk to Glenn. His phone is back in his room.

Ingrid is always telling him to keep it on him more, asking him what’s the point of having one if he never carries it with him.

“I have to go,” Felix repeats, looking at Byleth again.

She nods, eyes downcast, and Felix turns away, running back along the path to re-enter the hotel.

It begins to rain just as he steps inside.

He hopes Byleth won’t stay out in it.

.

She stays out in it. The rain quickly soaks through her hair and clothes, but she doesn’t even feel it until she starts to shiver.

Even then she doesn’t move, remaining sitting on the bench even when her teeth start chattering.

Her limbs feel too heavy. Everything feels too heavy.

And mostly, despite her own grief and heartache, she feels guilty. Because if she’d never turned up at Garreg Mach then Felix would never have remembered.

His horrified face as he remembered the death of his brother sticks in her mind and remorse pricks at her cold skin.

She’d have spared him that grief even if it would mean he never remembered her.

.

She’s still sitting there when Felix finds her again.

“Get out of the rain,” he snaps at her.

Byleth starts, blinking at him in surprise. His hood is pulled up against the downpour, and his eyes are red rimmed.

She glances upwards, wondering how long she’d been sitting there. It doesn’t seem like it’s been that long, but she’s shivering rather violently.

“Come on,” Felix says impatiently, looking away from her even as he holds out a hand.

She accepts it, a shock running through her as her cold hand touches his.

Felix tugs her up and, still holding her hand, all but marches them back into the hotel. They ignore the looks of dismay from the hotel staff as they walk, dripping, across the lobby. And Byleth says nothing as Felix leads her through a winding hallway and up some stairs.

He only lets go of her hand to search for his room key, fumbling with it slightly as he unlocks the door.

Still remaining silent, she follows him into the room. She doesn’t take much notice of the room itself because she’s still shivering. Felix gently nudges her into the little bathroom and grabs a towel, and then stops, uncertain.

“Take a shower,” he mutters, averting his eyes from her.

“A… a shower,” Byeth repeats blankly.

“Yes, a _shower_. I know we didn’t have them before but surely you know what they are.” Felix gestures to the bathtub behind her, which has a mounted shower.

Byleth’s eyes widen at the use of _we_ , but she doesn’t comment on it, half afraid of spooking him and ending this – whatever this is.

“What about my clothes?”

The top of his ears are going red. “Give me your room key,” Felix all but demands. “I’ll get your clothes.”

Byleth, a little bewildered by all this and not wanting to make him uncomfortable, replies, “I can just go to my own room.”

“No!” Felix looks a bit abashed by his outburst. “No,” he says again, crossing his arms. “I want you to stay… here.” Glancing at Byleth’s dumbfounded expression, he huffs. “Stop looking at me like that and just give me your key.”

.

Byleth showers as quickly as she can, letting the hot water warm her up. The whole time, all she can think about is Felix, and she is a mixture of hope and agony, not knowing what she’s going to deal with once she leaves this bathroom.

When she finishes, she wraps a towel around herself, and edges the bathroom door open. The rest of the room is silent, and she spots a neat pile of her clothes on the ground, so she snatches them up and quickly retreats back inside.

She briefly wonders what Felix thought of her underwear because dismissing the silly thought. She has no right to think that.

As she dries and dresses as quickly as she can, Byleth’s nerves grow, and after haphazardly rubbing a towel in her hair she has no more reasons to stay in here.

But Byleth’s never been one for hiding, so she squares her shoulders, opens the door, and strides into the bedroom.

Felix is sitting on the end of the bed, and he straightens up as he hears her approach. His gaze on her is steady, the earlier panic and uncertainty seeming to be gone.

He stands, facing her, and tension stretches out between them.

Byleth fidgets, not sure what to make of this, of the way he’s looking at her. It reminds her too much of Felix when he’d grown into his role as husband and Duke, of how he’d looked at her after she’d confessed her fears about not growing old while he did, about not being able to provide an heir.

“You’re not a coward, Byleth,” Felix had said, surprisingly calm even when his eyes had narrowed in anger at the mere thought that she’d leave him over something that was – to him – unimportant. “Don’t start acting like one.”

He’d kissed her then, and took her to bed and left her in no doubt about how much he loved her and – and now Byleth feels a flush of heat run through her because of the way Felix – _this_ Felix, not _her_ Felix, is looking at her. She has to remind herself that no matter how alike they look, they aren’t the same.

They can’t be.

Her fingers twist at her wedding ring, and Felix’s eyes drop to the movement. His mouth opens, and he stretches out his own left hand to look at his bare fingers, frowning.

Shaking his head, Felix crosses his arms and raises his eyes to her face. “I always thought that I am me,” Felix starts, “that there is no one else. But that’s not true, is it?” He frowns, looking away from her. “I’m… him. And me. Is this…” His eyes swing back to hers. “Is this supposed to be some kind of second chance?”

Byleth lets out a long breath. “I think that’s what Sothis intended. But it doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be.”

“What do you mean by that?” Felix asks, sounding suspicious.

She steels herself. “You’re not… beholden to me. Or the past.”

He’s incredulous. “I know that.”

“So I’ll leave if you want, and you won’t see me again.” Byleth says, managing to keep her voice even. She means what she says. She won’t be the reason for his suffering.

“ _Leave_? Like you tried to do before? When this–“ he gestures between them “–is what we both wanted?” He takes a step towards her, eyes flashing. “I don’t remember everything but most of what I do involves you. _Everything_ is… is you.” His voice dips to a growl. “I can remember every single scar on your body.”

The breath whooshes out of Byleth at that, but she doesn’t know how to respond because she doesn’t know where she stands with this Felix. She doesn’t even get a _chance_ to respond before Felix is even closer, and all of a sudden he’s kissing her, sliding his hands into her hair and his tongue into her already open mouth and he’s kissing her like– he’s kissing her like he always did when she’d returned home after she’d been away from Fraldarius. Kisses that devoured her and stole her breath and left her knees weak. Kisses that said _I missed you_ and _welcome back_ and _don’t leave again_. Kisses that told her how much he loved her in the manner Felix spoke best – with actions, not words.

And perhaps she shouldn’t, but Byleth can’t help but kiss him back, her hands as greedy as her lips as she slides them over the thin fabric of his shirt, feeling his strong muscles underneath.

It’s Felix who ends the kiss, just as abruptly as he started it, ripping himself away from her and staring at her with wide eyes, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips. His chest is heaving, and he swallows heavily.

Byleth’s sure she looks the same.

“I–“ Felix presses his fingers to his lips and takes a deep breath.

He’s interrupted by the sound of his own stomach rumbling, loudly.

And despite everything, that makes Byleth smile. “Have you eaten today?” She touches her fingers lightly to her lips, drawing in a ragged breath.

“No,” he mutters, glaring at the wall.

“Then it’s no wonder I beat you,” she says mildly.

Felix glowers. “I’ll beat you next time.” And then he flushes again, before muttering. “Let’s go get lunch.”

Aware that there’s still a lot they need to discuss but not wanting to push him, Byleth can only agree even if she'd much rather stay in this room and kiss him again.

.

They brave the miserable weather to find somewhere to eat in the town. Walking in silence, Felix now eyes the place with the fresh memories of his past renewed to him.

Is it his past? Can he call it that? Is he really here again because the goddess Byleth had once fondly described to him as a _gremlin_ made it so?

Byleth is by his side, but he can’t see her face because it’s mostly obscured by her hood. Their kiss is still uppermost in his thoughts, and he stops suddenly, making Byleth turn to him, worry in her eyes.

“Are you alright?”

Felix’s response is a jerky nod, because he’s not entirely too sure of how he’s feeling. But he’s not feeling… bad. In fact, he feels far better than he has in days, despite the lingering confusion.

Byleth looks unconvinced. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly, hardly audible over the sound of the rain. “I’m sorry for you making you remember.”

 _That_ pisses him off. “Did that sleep make you stupid? Don’t apologise for that.”

She raises her eyebrows at him, surprised. And Felix is even a little surprised at himself.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he says, to make sure she’s clear on that. There might be a lot he’s confused about but that… isn’t one of them. And he fears that she would leave if she thought it was for the best. If she thought being here is hurting him.

And he can see it in her eyes, the hope that she’s trying not to let herself feel, and Felix realises – truly realises – what she’s been through. His death – _everyone’s_ death – while she remained unchanging. Reaching out, he takes her hand in hers.

“I don’t remember everything,” he says, repeating his earlier words. “But I remember how much I loved you.” Her breath catches. “I still do, I think. So don’t leave. And don’t apologise again, because I want to remember. I want this second chance.”

“You do? Even if…”

He blinks as dark images rise up in his mind; of battle and blood and grief, of Dimitri’s eye glazed with bloodlust, of a woman shifting into a horrific beast, of his father dying in a muddy field full of corpses.

Felix shudders, and realises with some guilt that he hasn’t spoken to his father in ages. It’s made easier knowing he can pick up the phone and call him later, even as the sombre realisation of how much he takes for granted sets in.

But when he answers Byleth, it’s with complete certainty. “Yes. I would rather have it all than not have… this.” He gestures at her. “You.” It’s worth taking the bad because the good will always outweigh it.

He can see how much she wants to believe him. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am,” he replies immediately, impatient. She should know him better than that, than to think he wouldn’t be sure of what he’s saying. But then he softens, squeezing her hand as he glances up at the sky. “I know it won’t always be easy, but…”

“I’ll be here,” Byleth promises quietly.

He lowers his gaze to find her watching him. She looks the same as she did the day she came to the Officer’s Academy; no older. But Felix can see the weight of the years on her… no, perhaps not the years, perhaps it’s the grief. Because their years together had been happy, even when they’d had their struggles. And Felix can feel that grief inside himself, reflecting what she feels.

He won’t be the only one who’ll find things difficult. He steps closer to her. “I’ll be there, too. For you.”

The words are awkward, but it still makes Byleth’s smile. It lights up her face – it’s a smile he’s missed without realising it. She steps closer, squeezing his hand and tilts her face up to him. Felix accepts the invitation, using his free hand to tuck some of her hair back under her hood before kissing her, much more chaste than the one in the hotel.

She sighs against him, pressing herself closer to him, and like the last time, Felix is inundated with memories of countless kisses like this over the years they were together.

There is only one Felix Hugo Fraldarius, he thinks. He’s just been lucky enough to live twice.

And now, he and Byleth have another lifetime to look forward to.

Uncaring of the fact that they’re in a public place, Felix slides an arm around her, holding her closer. Neither of them notice the rain stopping, but when they finally pull apart, Felix sees the sun peeking out from behind the clouds, casting the wet town in a warm glow.

She’s smiling at him, and he can feel the smile stretch across his own face in return, even as he steps away, still holding onto her hand.

“Come on, I’m still hungry.” He notices a cafe down the street and heads towards it. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”

Just outside the cafe, Byleth stops and tugs on his arm. Felix turns, expectant. “Is that a promise?” she asks, pressing herself against him and gently kissing the side of his mouth with a familiarity that makes his heart soar.

He huffs out a small laugh, a sudden surge of giddiness running through him – an unfamiliar feeling. His fingers find her left hand, touching the band of her wedding ring. “Yes. And when we get back to Garreg Mach, I want to see you in the training grounds. Don’t think I’ll go easy on you, either.”

Byleth laughs, breathless. “I’d be disappointed if you did.”

Felix can’t help but kiss her again, his hunger for food momentarily forgotten.

Above them, the clouds begin to clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could easily have turned into a monster of a fic because there's a whole lot to unpack here and we don't have time for all that and I have to stop somewhere because I still haven't finished tomorrow's prompt. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Author's Note:**

> It's midnight where I am so technically it's day two of Felileth week. This fic was hitting 18k+ words so it's been split into two parts. Part two will go up as soon as I find the time to do a final edit tomorrow as sometimes I unfortunately have to do my job.
> 
> And technology wise, I'm putting this fic vaguely around 2000-ish and Seteth probably gives Byleth a Nokia 3310.


End file.
